Initial Success or Total Failure
by arrowheadflyby
Summary: Christine Brennan-Booth has made a choice that will effect her and her family forever.
1. Chapter 1

**Soo this was my idea for a story. I think it ended up decent, at least. Anyways, you know the drill. Bones isn't mine. I'll try to update often. Have fun!**

* * *

On July Fifth, 2029, North Korea, Iran, and other affiliated nations declare war on the United States and their allies. Exactly twenty two hours later, I officially graduate from high school, second in my class, voted most likely to succeed in the school yearbook. However, when I received my diploma, while my parents where obviously focused on the accomplishment, my thoughts were elsewhere.

I'd been given a hockey scholarship at five universities, an academic scholarship at four more. By anyone's standard, I was set. No one saw how restless I was here. No one realized how much I wanted to just get out. And no one realized how much I needed to see my country safe.

Seeley Booth, my father, is a patriotic man. And when he heard the news that war had been declared, he grunted in frustration. News of the draft was coming in quickly, and I knew that Michael had been asked to put his name in. The question came up so much.

'Why don't you join me, Michael? They can't hate us if it's the two of us. And you stay out of the Army.'

'I'm happy here, Chrissy. I'm happy being a civilian. Why can't you be?' he asks, walking away. He doesn't like my decision, but he understands it. We've been discussing it for years, just as much as he's been discussing traveling to Duluth after he graduated to work as an intern at the Int. Bear or Wolf center. He'd been working on his collage studies while he was in high school, taking classes online.

He didn't have a full scholarship, but all he wanted was to study those creatures. He loved them.

The conversation comes up again as we sit across from each other at our own graduation party.

"I could join the Army, like Parker…One less slot to fill," I offer. He shrugs as though he doesn't care, and we move apart, going to our respective area's. I've been talking to Parker about this, too. My big brother, Sgt. Booth. He tells me to do what makes me happy, says that he's happy in the army. He's a combat medic. He wanted to go Special forces, but it never went that way for him.

He couldn't make it my party. He was readying for deployment.

After the party, mom comes upstairs with me and asks, not for the first time, what I want to do with my life. She encourages science, but claims that she'll be happy with anything. A shrug it off.

The next day I go to see a Navy recruiter. I can drive now, and when I make it there, I sit in the parking lot for several minutes before getting out and walking to meet him.

Petty Officer Second class Johnson, is his name. We talk for an hour before the obvious question comes up.

"Have you talked to your parents yet?"

"No, sir. No I have not."

He offers to come see them, but I decide that I need to tell them first. My ASVAB score is high, I took it last year at school, and he gives me job options.

The one thing that catchs my eyes, I know for a fact that my dad and mom won't like.

EOD. Explosive. Ordinance. Disposal. Unit.

I ask mom to invite Michael, Uncle Jack and Angela to come for dinner, and she seems to think it's a lovely idea. I confess that I have something to tell everyone, and for a moment her eyes darken.

"Honey…You aren't pregnant, are you?"

I blush deeply and shake my head.

"No, mom!" I amend quickly, stalking off.

When the crew comes, I feel afraid. I know there is no reason to. I have yet to sign paperwork. But I want to do it. I know I do.

I spend the time waiting in dads study, looking at his awards from the war. Purple heart, bronze star. All pretty things to say that he was a hero. I call Parker and tell him my decision, and he says he'll say a prayer so that maybe it'll go easier.

I remember when Parker enlisted in the Army. Mom was crying. Dad was so proud. And Rebecca…She'd hugged him tight.

We saw him graduate. I couldn't imagine that man up there being my big brother. He was too serious, too stone faced. Yet, when he came to see me, a grin spread on his face and he was just like the old Parker.

"The Army's the best thing I could have done with my life, Chrissy. Just don't let it become your life."

When he hears what job I want, however, he falters.

"That's dangerous. Especially in the middle east. You know that, right?"

"Yeah…I want to do something, though, Parker. I want to save people."

"Hooah," he says, and hangs up.

When all of them come and eat dinner, Christine fidgets beneath Michaels gaze. He knows what she's chosen to do. She can't tell if he's proud or not.

When they finish, I say, rather loudly, that I have an announcement to make. Everyone meets in the living room, and a curtain of smiles is all around.

I don't know how to break it softly, so I do so quickly and harshly.

"I'm joining the United States Navy. I'm not going to college. At least not yet,"

There was silence in the room, and for a moment all I notice is the fact that Michael is the only one that doesn't seem shocked. Just sad.

Dad's the first one to move, and he pats me on the back. His eyes are full of pride, but also an odd sense of fear. He hugs me tightly, and nods.

Michael gets up and leaves, and although Uncle Jack looks at me apologetically, he fallows his son. Angela walks up to me slowly and touchs my face, as though checking that I'm really here.

"Sweetie…" she whispers, tears in her eyes. She scampers away as well, and Booth looks between me and mom. I bite my lip, and he rubs the back of his neck.

"I, ah, better check on Angela…"

Mom has done nothing to this point. She was sitting next to me, but now its as though she's moved as far away as possible. I see the far away-ness in her eyes, and I try to touch her.

"Mom…"

"Logically it would make sense that you would want to join the Navy…The military. Your brother did it, your father did it, and now we're at war. It's logical. It makes sense," she whispers.

"Mom…You aren't mad at me, are you?" I ask, and look at her carefully.

She shakes her head before deciding otherwise, and nods.

"Yes, I am Christine! You have nine full ride scholarships! Why would you waste your talent on something like this!"

"Mom…They'll still be there when I get back."

"What if you don't?! Or what if you come back without a leg? Or unable to think? What then, Christine?" she asks, suddenly the farness zooming in. She was very much in the present right now.

"Look, you didn't make this big a deal when Parker-"

"Parker isn't my biological son, Christine! And further more, he's my son! Not my daughter! Do you know what they do to women if they capture you? It won't be nice!"

"You don't know that! And you don't know that I'll be captured…By the time I'm done training the war might be over!"

"You're training is only months long, Christine! The war won't end that fast!"

"Not unless I get the job I want!"

Theres silence among them, and for a moment Christine regrets blowing up at her mother. Only for moments, however. Her next words catch her anger again.

"What job do you want, Christine?"

"EOD. Explosive Ordinance Disposal. It's hard. It's really hard. But if I go, if I go and I see roadside bombs, anything, I can help stop it!"

"Do you know how many people were killed by IED'S in the Iraq-Afghanistan wars, Christine? I know every detail from those wars. Do you want to know them?"

"No mom! It won't change my choice! Why can't you just be happy for me!? I'm serving my country, it's my choice! Not yours. I'm going upstairs," I retorted, going upstairs and shutting the door. I heard the sound of cars starting and leaving outside. After an hour or so, in which time I did angry push ups, sit ups, and burpees, dad came upstairs and sat on my bed.

"She's just worried, you know," he said simply.

"Why? I'm not her. I'm not putting her in any danger."

"You're her daughter, Christine. And she loves you. You know that, don't you?" he asked. I huffed, snorted and leaned back.

"She's been to war zones, Christine. She's identified bodies. Women, children. She was at 9/11, identifying bodies. And she's been kidnapped in foreign countries. When you work her line of work, you see things that most mothers don't have to. I think…She's afraid some day it will be someone she knows."

"I'm okay with dying for my country, dad! I'm fine with it!"

"I know, baby. I know. I was there too. I love this country. I'm proud to have served in its military. But Bones…You're mother's scared. And she has a right to be. But you are right. It is your decision."

"What if she hates me?" I ask suddenly, the fear coming from my veins. He sighed, rubbing my head.

"She'll never hate you. She loves you. I'll come to the recruiting office with you tomorrow, alright? And we'll talk. I know you've made up your mind. I just want you to know there are risks. Oh, and call Uncle Jared. He was in the Navy," dad said, tossing me my phone.

"Cut her some slack, Christine. " he asks of me before walking out.

* * *

MEPS. Military, Entrance, Processing, Station.

I go through this before getting my ship date. I have six months to wrap things up before I leave for the Great lakes.

I've burned through five and a half of these months. I now have two weeks to go.

I'm nervous. I know that the war is still raging strong. The United States invaded Iran, and then North Korea. Both are now fighting zones.

I wait.

It's calmed down between me and mom, and she's even started to help me pack. Not much is needed. Everythings getting sent back home the instant I step foot in training. Dads running with me, doing push ups with me, pull ups. We're doing this when we come home and all the lights are out.

"You think moms already in bed? It's only five," I say.

Dad shrugs and takes out a key and tosses it to me. "I have to cool down. Go in and check on her," he states, walking back and forth in our drive way. I smirk, opening the door. The lights suddenly turn on, and about twelve people jump up with a loud, "Surprise!".

I cough in surprise, almost dropping the key in which dad had given me. I look between all of them, more then a little fearful, before I look at mom, who walks over to embrace me.

"Wha-whats this for?"

"You're leaving in two weeks, sweetie. The least we could do is make you a party." Angela retorts. Looking around, I realize exactly how many people are here. All of the squints from mom and dads work, Michael, Grandpa Hank, Jared…And then I see someone out of the corner of my eyes before he embraces me.

"Surprise, Chrissy!" he states, and I gasp in surprise.

"Parker! What are you doing here?"

"R and R, baby. The beauties of being a soldier instead of a sea boy. Don't worry, though. I give high respects to EOD's. Watch out for those SEAL boys, though," he grinned, ruffling my hair. "Ain't you gonna get that cut?"

"Yeah, day before I leave." I'd decided to cut it short instead of having to worry about putting it up.

"Go-od. Hey, it's your party, kiddo. Have fun," he pushed me away playfully as I went from person to person.

Angela hugged me the longest, as though she weren't about to see me again. She admitted that she wasn't sure if she could see me off, and I shrugged it off.

"Just…Be careful, Christine. Please," she asked of me. I played it off and nodded, grinning.

When I got to mom, I could see the obvious fear in her eyes. I smiled sadly.

"I'm not going to war yet, mom."

"No…But you will be," she said, hugging me closely. "Lets not fight anymore, alright?" she asked before pulling away.

Everyone had similar responses, with Jared stating that I'd gone the right way and Grandpa Hank hinting I should have gone intel, but it was fairly good. Until I saw Michael.

"You haven't gotten called yet," I offered hopefully. He looked up and shrugged. "When you heading to Duluth? We'll be near each other, kind of…I mean," I felt awkward, and he blinked.

"A week after you leave," he stated, shifting awkwardly.

"So you got the internship!"

"Yeah…I guess I did," he stated, licking his lips.

We stayed awkward.

"Will you write me? When I'm at training? It's really long. It's hard…Especially my job training…"

He sighed and smiled at me, though it was obviously hurting him.

"Of course, Christine. Christine, I-"

There was a quick cut off and he bit his lip.

"You know what? Never mind. It doesn't matter."

I did mind, but I didn't let it show. Two weeks later, I was boarding a plane.

Two months later, I'm officially a sailor.

70 weeks later, I am officially EOD certified.

And three months after I get to my first duty station, I receive my deployment orders.

"_Initial success or total failure"_


	2. Chapter 2

**Yeah, heres the next chapter! For some reason it said this was in spanish, so if that confused anyone, sorry! I don't speak that good of Spanish, so not many of those in the future!**

**Anyways, I don't own Bones. And also, whenever people are talking to Christine and referring to her as "Booth", I did mean for it that way xD I promise. Anyways, I love ya'll and have fun!**

* * *

"Motherfucker, Booth! Can't you keep your pants on for ten seconds?" I heard the tone of one of my "brothers" and tossed him the head covering and then the over lay of the uniform. The bomb suit is heavy in the desert, but it's always nice knowing you have a little bit of protection.

"Yeah, yeah, Bunker. Screw you. Who was too cowardly to go in there first, by the way?"

"Hey, you're the feminist! I can do anything a man can do, treat me like you would a brother, blah, blah blah. Damned women," he joked. PO3 Travers heard the commotion and perched on the edge.

"Stop stalling, you two. The longer we're out here, the bigger targets we are," she warns us, and then crawls back into the jeep. I laugh at Bunker and swing into the vehicle. Wolfman, AKA Johnson perches on the turret, looking down at us.

"When the hell you two gonna hook up, huh?" he joked, winking at us. Bunker was a good four years older then me, originally a Navy Corpsman (Devil Doc, he calls himself) before deciding to switch over. Since we were shipmates in training, we got a lot of crap.

I love him like I love a brother.

I love all these guys like I would love a sibling. I'd die for them.

Even Travers.

McGill sits more at attention then the rest of us. Afraid.

You can't give in to fear, though. That's what I want to tell him. We're all afraid, but we have to learn to live with it.

I looked at my watch and then pointed at the time for Wolfman.

"Yo, Wolfman. You know what next week is?"

"I'm going home!" he howls, grinning at me from above and slapping my hand. "I'll send ya'll some freaking little Debbie's or something,"

"Cheetos," I reply. "Send lots of Cheetos,"

He laughs.

"Fuck yeah,"

In the care packages that Angela and Jack sent me, they always managed to send a couple of bags of cheetos. It had become a sort of joke among us. The guys took the dust and put it like war paint on their faces, everyone acting as though the inside of the tents were circuses.

None of the guys gave me shit. Or, more so, they didn't do more so then what I was okay with. The first day, when assigned during deployment, I'd laid out the rules. Wolfman had gone for a flirtation and I'd knocked him on his ass.

"Where the hell'd you learn that?" he'd asked, fear in his eyes.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" I'd asked, chuckling.

Everyone treated me like a brother, then. Just what I wanted.

War is not a pleasant thing. It is not jokes, it is not fun. But when you joke, when you try to turn everything you know into a joke, except for the very basics of your job, maybe you can live. Maybe you can survive.

I have killed two men.

One child.

And mom and dad will never know.

This is how the brotherhood works. When I killed the child, it had been out of necessity. A bomb had been strapped to his chest, the ignition in his hand. I couldn't blame him. And it took all that was in me to pull the trigger.

Travers had come to me first, late at night when I buried my head and cried. She'd laid her hand on my arm and sighed.

"You did the right thing, Booth."

"How do you know?" I'd cried.

"Think of how many lives you saved."

"That doesn't make it right!"

"That's war," she'd stated, patting her on the back. Travers, the oldest in their group, had seen the beginning of the war, the bloodiest part. And we trusted her.

I still couldn't help but hate myself after that. It was a child…Damn it. I slammed the butt of my M16 down in the barracks, trying to calm down.

Back to the present, I'm sitting on a rickety jeep, bouncing along the roads of hell. We're joking. All of us, joking. Trying to forget the miniscule things. Jading Wolfman because he'd be going home soon.

"What's your first meal gonna be back home, big boy?"

"Mac and cheese, Booth! Mac and freaking cheese!"

Laughing, I leaned back and relaxed for a moment. Relaxing is fatal, but I had nothing to do right now. Listen for shots, get out if some are fired. Get back to base safely.

While we were Navy, we were assigned to work with Army EOD's and Air force EOD's, and I thanked god for this. I soon learned that I hated ships and I hated the ocean. I was able to deal with it, but the fact that I didn't have to be on a ship almost twenty four seven was relief.

I reminded myself that I was supposed to call mom in a couple of days, and hoped that the lines wouldn't be too crowded. Our cell phone reception sucked, so while it was nice of the American companies to send us phones and phone cards, it didn't do much good. Internet was sketch, too.

Yawning, I adjusted my M16 on my lap and looked out the window. I usually try not to do this. So much destruction, so much trouble.

My relaxation was broken, however, when I saw Wolfmans foot move. The driver was yelling into the radio, and the "ping, ping ping" sound on our vehicle was not a pleasant one. I tensed, ready to defend and protect, just as I'd been trained to do.

However, with all of this, our driver didn't see the carcass on the side of the road.

And as our Instructor had told us when training us on IED's, carcasses are a prime spot to hide them. You miss them…

_You miss them, and you go up in flames, seamen._

_Boom_

Boom…

* * *

Temperance Brennan's POV.

"…the paramortum fracture was sustained on the spinal cord," I started into my recorder, hoping to keep my mind off of whatever might be happening. I was waiting for a call from Christine later tonight, so that would ease my mind some, perhaps. However, the constant worry still ebbed on me. I know very well she's trained, and she made it through the training, so she has to be good. She's smart…

I drift off significantly, and trying to figure out this mans death seems impossible. He died in the WWI. Catalog injuries, try to find family.

"Sweetie?" Angela called, peaking into the room. "Can you come here, please?"

"I'm trying to work, Angela. Another time, maybe?"

"No, no Sweetie. You have to come. Right now," she said urgently, glancing back towards her room, and gesturing widely for me. For a moment, I felt a twinge of annoyance.

"Look, Angela, this is very important work. I know you're bored, but please, just leave me-"

"Temperance Joy Brennan! Please, just listen to me. Come with me. Please," the begging in her voice was obvious, and sensing the obvious distress, I fallowed her into her room where the news was running.

"Angela, this is highly inappropriate. We're at work. We should be-"

"No, Sweetie…Just listen."

The screen showed an over flash of a scene, and for a moment it bothered me that I was unsure of what she was talking about.

The bottom of the screen, however, stated it all.

'Bombing kills 3, injures 2 others'

"This has come after months of near standstill in the war. The Pentagon issued a report today, saying-"

I walked out.

No, I didn't know if that had anything to do with Christine. In fact, it probably had nothing to do with Christine. I didn't know exactly where she was stationed. On top of that, she hadn't even heard what branch it was from. It could be anyone!

I needed to work…It wouldn't do me any good dwelling on what had happened. I'd hear from Christine tonight…She'd be cheerful, maybe a bit down that some of her brothers in arms were dead, but Booth would comfort her…She may not even know them!

I took comfort in this, though very little.

It surprised me when Booth came in, eyes looking longingly for me. When he finally found me, he grabbed me and pulled me to the side carefully. He took a long time to speak, and I tried to remain hopeful.

"Do we have a case?"

"No Bones…It's…"

"Well, in that case, I need to get back to work, Booth. You know, they pay me for this stuff."

"Bones, no, just listen. It's Christine. She's in the hospital, stateside. She's been hurt."

My smile faltered, and my knee's buckled. Booth managed to catch me, and lead me to my couch, where I wept openly for the first time in a long time.

When Angela came in and he told her, she made her way to me and wrapped her arms around me. I found comfort in her touch, and leaned against her.

"She's still alive, right Booth?" she asked, and I could hear the strain in his voice.

"She's hurt real bad, Bones…But they think she'll be alright," he said to me, running his hands through my hair.

I looked into his eyes, and saw something I hadn't seen in a long while-

Booth was scared.

* * *

Michaels POV.

"We have to understand that pack instincts aren't that different from human instincts. After all, when someone we love is hurt, we feel compassion, remorse, love. We want revenge. It's not that different within a wolf pack, especially when young are involved." I tried to explain to a visitor, trying to explain something in which the other man clearly didn't get. The old man grumbled something and walked off to another area, and I frowned visibly.

Why'd I ever think I could make it here? It'd been months, they'd offered me a job, and I felt like I was drowning. I wanted to go back home. However, if I did, I felt as though I wouldn't be proving what I need to prove. If Christine can join the Navy and go to war, why the hell can't I stay stateside and keep totally sane?

I hadn't gotten into the Int. wolf center. Instead, I was working at some halfshit zoo that I'm pretty sure most of the world didn't know about. I felt like shit.

My boss saves me from lingering in these thoughts for too long. He says that there's some emergency call on the phone from my family, and tells me to get it right away. I make my way to it quickly and answer.

"Yeah? Michael Hodgins here." He stated into the phone, leaning against the wall. He was kind of hoping it was Christine, giving him a call and making an excuse for it. Of course, it wasn't.

"Michael. It's your mom. You need to come home,"

"Why?" I asked, pushing off the wall and covering my other ear.

"Christines home, honey."

I felt a surge of excitement and grinned, already thinking of which airline was the cheapest, when I could get the next ride, how I could break it softly to my boss, 'Sorry, mofo, I ain't never coming back again!'

"Yeah? She get sent home early or something?"

"No…Baby, Christine got hurt," and this stops my train of thought.

Christine was hurt? Christine, my Christine, my best friend, hurt? I must of misheard.

"No, wait. Did the line just crackle or something? What do you mean, hurt?" I stuttered.

"I mean she's in the hospital honey. She's in surgery again right now. Look, I know how close you two were…I don't know whats going to happen. But she needs her friends, Michael."

"Right…" I stated, blanching slightly and flinching. "Look, I'll call you when I get my flight number, mom. I'm gonna try and fly in tonight."

I walked out without giving two shits about my boss.


	3. Chapter 3

**So I was planning on doing another chapter for my other story today, however, after last nights episode of "Bones," I couldn't help but dwell on the significance of Brennan's protectiveness over her daughter. I could probably write a whole theory on that one single line, which I'll reference periodically, but instead I suppose I'll have to deal with this. I'm really enjoying writing this, so read and review if you'd like.**

* * *

_I have a daughter, and I would do anything to make sure that she knew that I care about her, and that I'd fight for her._

No one could tell us what was going on. That was the first thing that annoyed me.

Booth reassured me, though his teeth were clenched, that this would change soon. However, whenever I left the waiting room for something and came back, I saw him standing next to a nurse, demanding information or at least someone to talk to. Many hundreds of times this happens.

Logic, I think. This has to be what we need to think about. Logic.

It was logical that something would happen to Christine. She was on the bomb squad. At the same time, however, I could barely keep my head up with this information. When I'd asked Christines recruiter how much danger she was in, he'd smiled and raised his brows.

'Ma'am, EOD technicians, especially in the Navy, are some of the most specially trained men and women in the Navy. She'll be ready when she goes to war,

Not if, but when. That was what struck me. Because Christine had tried to tell me that she believed that the war was near its end point, that it would be like Operation Desert Storm. However, I knew in the instant that her recruiter said the word, WHEN, that she'd had no more beliefs of this then I had. She'd known she was going to go to war.

When she'd arrived to her first duty station and called me, there had been such excitement in her voice. I made it, mom, I made it!

They're shipping me to war in three months, mom, but don't worry. I just wanted you and dad to know.

Parker had returned home three weeks after she'd been assigned, and was now working in the exact hospital where we were sitting. I'd been confused at first, because he'd explained that he was a combat medic, but he quickly amended and said that in peace times or while at home, he was a health care specialist… Not a doctor, but not really a nurse either.

I'd looked to Booth for help, and he'd told me he would explain later. We never really talked about it.

Angela and Hodgins have left to pick up Michael from the airport. She offers to pay for the boys air fare, but he declines.

'You got me out of that hell hole so I can see Christine? Of course I'll pay my own way'

Of course, that wasn't quite how it'd gone. And Michael knew it. But he was like me, scientific at first glance, and he pushed things off like no tomorrow. When he'd lost his chance at a baseball scholarship due to a sprained ankle at the end of the year, he'd thrown himself back into his computer classes, informing me and annoying Christine with the constant facts and figures surrounding Canines in particular.

'Did you know that the majority of feral dogs in this country-'

'Don't care, Mikey.'

'But this is really interesting! That they-'

'Mikey. I don't care. Either talk to me like a normal person or go read your book,'

I could see the hurt in his eyes when she'd said this to him, but he'd bounced back quickly and simply started talking about the schools he'd wanted to go to if he didn't get an internship. Looking back, seeing the faint smile on her face was something I should have looked for more carefully. I should have looked a million things more carefully.

"Four people in her unit were killed, Bones," Booth says this to me and looks over, his eyes sad and unsure. I'm unsure of why he's telling me this, if this is supposed to be some sort of teaching lesson or something. "Two more injured."

"Why are you telling me this? To say that the news networks were wrong?"

"No…To tell you that she's going to need us. And that she's still alive. We always had a saying when one of us got killed…It's best to die in the states, if you can,"

"Booth, that's irrational and unhelpful. Why does it matter where anyone dies?"

"The thing is, Bones, that she isn't dead. And now that she's in the states, I don't believe she'll die."

"Where the hell are the doctors, Booth? Why can't they tell us anything?"

He pauses for a long time and rubs my back and I lean into him, tears choking my throat. I want to tell him all about the fact that I'm dying right now, I just want to know what's happened to her, I just want to know that she's going to be okay.

When a man comes out and calls out her name, we both look up and walk slowly to him.

"Family, I'm assuming?"

"Parents,"

"I'm very sorry."

The words make my eyes start to water again, but I hold them in. Booth tightens his hold on me.

"This is going to be very hard,"

And I feel my knee's buckle, though Booth holds me up. He's staring in the mans eyes, daring him to say the words, daring him to say the words, She's dead, we're sorry, she's dead, and I wait for them too.

"You're daughter is alive, however-"

Relief floods over my much like a river, and I'm gripping Booth, leaning my head into his shoulder and letting some tears fall, letting them fall silently and trying to keep the sobs from exiting my mouth.

"-there were complications…Battle wounds," he says, and I can tell from the fierceness in Booths eyes that he just wants him to tell us what's wrong, to tell us that she's going to live but also tell us what the hell is wrong.

"Her left and right leg were both separated from her body, though her left was far worse off…It was separated further above the knee then we'd want it to be. And her left arm has also been amputated,"

My mind scans this information, and I just want to yell, yes, yes, but she's going to okay, right? Prosthetics, pain medication, she'll live, won't she?

"And another thing…Have either of you heard of Traumatic Brain Injury? TBI?"

I glance at Booth, and he nods, though I know about it too. Caused by a violent blow, sometimes penetration, it can cause a multitude of mental and physical symptoms.

"You're daughter is currently suffering from this as well. She should be over the hill, so to speak, and I believe she will live but…We're unsure of how moderate or mild it currently is. She has a long road to go through."

Booth and I look at each other and I can feel the doctor looking at both of us, as though expecting a wild reaction. However, we both just look at him again and try to smile.

Shock. I can't feel what this will mean for us, anything that's been told to us, other then the one thing-she's alive.

"Can we see her? Is she awake?"

The doctor nods and asks us to fallow him.

"Don't show too much shock or emotional change when you see her. She's unlikely to understand exactly whats happening at first," he explains to us, and when we finally get to her room, he stops us, explaining the multitude of things that could happen while we were in there, in which cases we should call for a nurse. He states that he'll be in sooner then later to check on her.

"Oh, and one last thing. You're daughter returning from a war zone. In any case, this would be difficult. Her crew saved hundreds of lives. She's a hero," he states this with a sudden sureness, and then looks into the window, where our daughter lays beneath blanket after blanket. "Be sure to treat her like one,"

"She's my daughter, doc," Booth chimes in. "If she had come home with little more then a scratch, I would have treated her like a hero. She's a hero for just being there,"

He smiled and opened the door for us.

* * *

When we enter the room, she looks up at us, and gets a confused look on her face.

"Mom? Dad? Wha' you guys doing in Iran?" For a moment, I see a spec of fear in her eyes as she looks around, trying to figure out exactly where she is, exactly why we're here, and what happened.

"You're home, kiddo. You aren't in Iran anymore," Booth takes the initiative and perches above her. She seems sincerely confused by this, and reaches out to touch him with her good hand, her only hand, I have to remind myself, and when she feels him, seems to relax.

"Wha' happened?" she asks, leaning into her bed and looking at me, then her father, and then back at me. I look up at Booth in concern and wonder whether or not we should tell her, and he shakes his head.

"Not now, Chrissy. Lets just be happy that we're here right now," he states, smiling and wiping the sweat that's collecting on her forehead. Taking this for an answer, she closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath.

"Well, you and mom, we can go to the…the…" she scrunches her face up and then looks at the two of us, momentarily dazed. However, when she can't find the word, she skips over it, "and I'll introduce you to Bunker and Wolfman and Schak. I've been tellin' them 'bout you guys…How you solve murders and stuff," she says, sounding tired and half asleep, straining for every word.

I smile and absently take her hand in mine, rubbing it softly.

"Alright, baby. Do you want to sleep for a while?"

"Yeah…Yeah, sleep is good," she says, calming down. "My leg hurts, mom…Do you think you could tell them to do something?"

I look down and bite my lip, nodding.

"Of course, Christine. I'll let them know right away. Now just sleep, baby," I whisper, kissing her on the forehead and finding a place to sit.

"She thinks her legs are still there," I whisper, rubbing my eyes.

"She thinks a lot of things are still here," Booth states, walking out to inform a nurse about the pain and then walking back in.

_I have a daughter, and I would do anything to make sure that she knew that I care about her, and that I'd fight for her._

Oh, baby…How in the hell am I going to fight for you in this?

* * *

**Yikes...Well, as always, I don't own Bones. And as always, feel free to read and review as you like!**


	4. Chapter 4

**_Thanks for the review, favorites and fallows so far guys! I was wondering whether or not I should continue because I was unsure if anyone found it interesting. So thanks for letting me know there's interest! As always, I don't own Bones. Have good time, read and review, and thanks to everyone!_**

* * *

_This is a war of injuries, not deaths. If people could just understand that, maybe we'd gain some sympathy._

_Support for the war in which we are not the aggressors is at an all time low._

_There are constant protests._

_Yet no one understands that these countries advanced on us, that if we hadn't invaded, our country would have blood spilled on the sidewalks._

_People do not understand that if it were not for our choice to invade and deploy, civilians would die._

_Those that don't protest have forgotten._

_We're still over there._

_We're still fighting._

_We're still dying._

_Each and every one of us._

_We will remain in those countries for the rest of our lives._

_Whether we come home alive, or whether in body bags. Whether we come home unscratched or come home with four less limbs then what we went to war with._

_We will remain in those countries until the day we die._

_And even then, I'm sure that Hell will look a lot like a war zone. _

-Written in by Christine Angela Brennan-Booth during deployment.

I look at these words and have to keep from shaking.

It's been two weeks since she's awoken. And the fear in her eyes each time she wakes up is unbearable.

Bone's refuses to leave her side, being there after every nightmare, after every fearful encounter with whatever devil she's dealing with. Bone's is there to explain, each time she wakes and see's her arm gone, and can't move her legs, she's there to explain what happened and how she's here.

I'm there too, and I can't help but realize that when her mother calms her down, her eyes drift to me.

_What am I gonna do, daddy?_

That's what her eyes ask, but I can see that it's more than that when she smiles and asks about everyone else. Michael comes whenever he can, but he's mainly helping me and Hodgins start renovating the house. Whenever she asks about him, I can see a spark of hope in her eyes, something that brings a tear to my own.

She's afraid.

Parker is coming in often too, making jokes and winking at her.

"Well, Seaman Booth, how are you on this fine and lovely evening? Enjoying your stay?"

"Sergeant Booth, a pleasure! Tell me, do you serve cocktails at this fine establishment?"

"Why indeed we do, you damned sailor!"

When I finally coax Bones to go home, Christine is sleeping, fidgeting in her sleep, and I hope to god the sound won't wake her. I tell her, hey, Angela and Hodgins will be over, they'll look after her. Don't worry. You aren't any good to her exhausted.

Bones tries to tell me a million things that she knows about amputations, about the fact that Christine will be fine, just fine, statistically she'll be alright, and I have to calm her down by the time we get in the car.

"You're scared. It's okay to be scared, Bones."

"This isn't about me, Booth…"

"No, but you're her mother. It's okay to be scared for her."

She doesn't cry loudly, she doesn't sob. Instead, silent tears fall down her face as though in constant, and exhaustion takes over her as soon as the car starts moving.

"She still thinks everyone is alive in her unit, doesn't she?" she asks that one last question.

"She's smart. I think she figured it out a long time ago,"

We pulled into the driveway, up the patio, where a series of ramps are attached. Oddly, Michael knows a lot more about building then I'd have originally given him credit for.

Bones is sleeping when we pull in, and I carry her inside, setting her on our couch before preparing food, giving Angela a call to ask how close they are. When everything seems alright, I prepare our plates and walk in to wake up Bones. After simply sitting on the couch, I instantly fall asleep.

* * *

"Michael, honey. Just please. Talk to me, will you?"

"What's there to talk about, mom? Hmm?"

"Please, sweetie…You must be feeling it. That pain. You aren't as much a scientist as you'd like to pretend you are,"

"I'm fine, mom. I just want to see Chrissy. Is that so bad?"

"Alone?"

"We aren't supposed to go in with more than two people anyways. I'll talk to her for a while and then you and dad can go in. Please, mom. I just…I want to talk to her. She's my…" I pause for a long time and then blinked. "She's be my best friend. I'm not going to act odd in front of her,"

Mom seems to think and then pats me on the back.

"Fine. You have a little while. Me and you're dad are going to go get food. You have that much time,"

"Fancy restaurant?"

"White Castle,"

"So…Thirty minutes?"

"Tops,"

"Alrighty then,"

I state, starting to walk already. My backpack is slung over my shoulder, the stupid zoo backpack with "Hodgins" stamped on. We were supposed to use it if we ever went on a camping trip to do some research. Granted, it was free, or it'd come out of our paycheck whether we wanted it or not, so why not use it?

The hospital wasn't something I particularly enjoyed the sight of. The last couple of times I'd been here hadn't exactly been fun. Well, not here exactly. It was a military hospital, not a civilian, which was weird to me. The majority of people here had injuries, not illness, and I had to keep walking forward. Once or twice a couple women had stopped me and thanked me for my service.

'Um, no ma'am. I'm, uh, a friend. Not…' and then I'd be on my way.

They didn't chase after me. I assume it's probably a mistake that could be made by anyone.

When I make it to Christine's room, she's mumbling something under her breath, eyes shut tightly as her one arms attempts to grab at something. When I come in and whistle, she suddenly stops and gulps in, forcing a grin.

"Mikey! Hey, man! Where's your mom and pop?"

"Cut the crap, Christine. It's okay if you're hurting,"

Her face crumples for a moment and she just shrugs.

"It itches so damn bad. It itches and it hurts. Counting backwards from one hundred helps,"

"How?"

"I think, well, maybe I can't get through the entire day. But I can definitely get through a hundred seconds,"

I stare at her. The admission was a strange one, something I had yet to hear from Christine Brennan- Booth. And I doubted many others had heard it either. She squirms slightly and shuts her eyes, mumbling the words again.

I feel awkward, misplaced. But perhaps because we've seen each other sick before and in pain, I perch on her bed and offer my hand for hers. She opens her eyes for a moment and clutches my hand, closing her eyes.

We both count backwards, then upwards. It becomes a mantra.

Sometimes, her face crumples and for a moment she stutters over a number. Like she can't quite get it.

"N….N…The one that comes after eighteen?"

"Nineteen," I state, and for a moment all is right again and she calms.

Sooner or later she calms significantly and the numbers fade. Exhaustion kicks in and her hand lets go of mine.

"Don't….Wan…You to go…" she mutters, and she searches for my hand again. I take off my backpack and grab what's inside, setting it down.

"It's a Dingo. Australian. We had one at the zoo. One of the few good things," I state. She looks sleepily at it and hugs it tightly to her chest.

"What…." She seems confused for a moment and tries to sort out the wording. "What is it called by?"

"It's name? It doesn't have one,"

"I'll name him later, then. Now I have someone with me all the time…He…Won't…Leave,"

This aches my heart, but I simply watch as she falls into sleep.

"I won't leave you either, Christine. I promise," I state before getting out of her bed and sitting next to it, aware that mom and dad have come inside the room, are looking between us. I get up, but when I leave, I perch outside of the room.

Just in case she needs someone to count with.

I'm a good counter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Having some funs with drama. So hopefully ya'll will enjoy! Note that I am NOT a medical doctor, I'm getting most of my info off the internet, so things could and will likely be inaccurate, and simply are being portrayed for the sake of the story. As always, I don't own Bones! Have fun!**

* * *

"_I wanted to be an Airborne Ranger_

_Wanted to live the life of danger._

_Instead I strapped a bomb to my chest._

_Told dear mom, I did my best."_

I felt so horrible…But I was unsure why…And on top of that, I didn't want to tell anybody…

It was probably nothing.

Michael left to eat after a little while, asking me if I wanted anything. I'd grimaced and shook my head, and his mom had shot him a look. Mouthing 'sorry,' to me, he darted out.

I laughed softly at him and then leaned back. Uncle Jack was going outside for something, who knows what, and then suddenly it was just me and Angela.

The single most emotional person I've ever known and _me, _put into a room with each other.

Don't get me wrong. I love my godmother. She's probably the closest maternal figure I had after my mom that showed me affection. When I'd told her I wanted to write a novel when I came home, she'd supported it, and when I admitted I didn't want to tell mom because, hey, it felt like I was chasing after her, Angie had understood. She hadn't told her.

But I didn't want to talk.

Not about the war.

Not about my injuries.

She managed to pick up, however, on the one thing I did want to talk about.

"I drew a sketch of your unit…I was going to send it in the next care package, but…"

I blinked and then tilted my head. She reached into her purse and showed me the picture that she'd been using to sketch off of. It was one of our few serious pictures. Wolfman, the goof he was, was the only one not taking it seriously. He had his flak jacket hanging from him, unzipped, and his hat tilted back. The rest of us were posed either on top of the vehicle or next to it. I was bending down next to Bunker, arm around him. All of our weapons on our backs.

One guy stood out. Our interpreter. He looked odd and out of place, and while we'd proved him with cammo, it was too big, and on top of that, he didn't have a gun. I told him if we ever came under fire, I'd save his scrawny ass. He'd looked at me as though unsure what that meant, and I'd grinned.

'_It means I've got you're back. I'm watching out for you,'_

Not many Iranians liked us anymore. So the few that did, I was planning on looking after.

She started to point to each one, and I would explain each one.

"That's Wolfman, Johnson, but everyone calls him Wolfman. He's the goof…He never takes nothing serious…'Cept bomb clearing…He…He's…He's a nice guy…

"And him? That's Bunker, my battle buddy. Well, that's what we called um, even though that's army…He was a corpsman, worked with Marines, but then he…Thought he should join our crew…"

And so it went on and on until I'd explained every single one. I felt like a two year old stumbling through everything. Nothing made sense in my mind. I stumbled over vocabulary that I've known since I was a preschooler, and then words would randomly pop up, the wrong ones. And while I couldn't write, I assumed that that wouldn't be the greatest thing either. It would probably reverse.

I wished Bunker was here…He could tell me all the medical bullshit.

"They're going to try to fit me for….For…For…"

"Prosthetics?" Angela offered hopefully.

"Yeah…Yeah…I think that's it…"

Tears filled her eyes as she leaned across and grabbed my hand, stroking it lightly.

"I really do love you, Sweetie…"

"I know, Ange…I know,"

"You're a Booth…You have it in you to fight, right?"

"Right," I reassured her, grinning, though the retched itching was becoming again, more and more present. It THROBBED, now, and it wasn't getting any better. I moaned weakly, and leaned back, shutting my eyes harshly as Angela jumped up, and looked at me with a somewhat familiar look.

"Are you okay, Christine?"

"It…It hurts…I'm…Really, really warm…"

"I'll get a doctor, alright?"

"Right…"

And I started to drift then, my body giving into the pain and my mind giving into the slight shock.

* * *

_**Change of POV to Parker**_

* * *

"Ange?"

I watched as she jumped from the chair, looking at me for the first time in a long time. I smiled sadly at her and walked up, sitting down and looking at my hands.

The constant thread of doctors in and out of the girls room had probably given her a grand threat. And if she'd heard the long, monotonous beep indicating her heart had stopped, what was she going to say?

The fact that Christine had looked so ill before…Why hadn't I said something?

"Parker…What's going on?"

"Sepsis…You ever heard of it?"

"N…No?"

"It's a reaction…A chemical reaction in the body. To an infection,"

"I thought…Antibiotics…"

"I guess it wasn't responding right…And so her body tried to take care of it on its own,"

The shutter in her breath made me sigh, and I patted her on the back, thanking God that dad hadn't been told yet…I couldn't bare myself to calm them, and I'd told Angela not to either. In case it was a false alarm…

It wasn't.

"She looked so sick…But I thought…I thought…"

"That we had it under control?"

"Yes!"

"Yeah…I did too,"

We sat in silence, and I closed my eyes, trying to figure out how to proceed next.

I have to tell dad.

Flicking out my phone, I dial the number and wait several minutes before he picks up, sounding groggy and confused.

"Hello?"

"Dad, it's Parker. Christine…"

And so the conversation starts, and ends, almost the same as Angela. I hover and think for a moment, wondering how to make this as easy as possible.

"Dad…They think she's given up,"

'What?!'

"They think…They think she's done…Her heart stopped, Dad…And her lungs aren't working,"

'They revived her, right?'

"Yeah, but dad…They don't know. The respiratory failure…Whether it's long term or not. They think…Maybe she's just given up…They aren't, but…"

_If you were in her position, losing everything you once held dear, wouldn't you want to give up too?_

'But what, Parker?'

"Just get Bones and the rest of the family down here…Just in case,"

_Just in case, just in case…F-u-c-k-e-d, a-g-a-i-n…_

"And dad?"

'What is it, Parker?'

"I love you…And so does Chrissy,"

'She can tell me herself…I love you too, Parker,'

I hung up and sighed, getting up and offering my phone to Ange.

"You need to call anyone?"

'_And when they strapped the crab to my chest,_

_I told my dad 'I got the best'_

_Sound off! 1-2_

_Sound off! 3-4_

_1-2-3-4, US Navy, bring some more'_


	6. Hero of War

Don't own Bones, don't own Rise Against, and I totally loves reviews and stuff. Thanks!

* * *

_Hero of war_

_Yeah that's what I'll be_

_And when I come home they'll be damned proud of me_

_I'll carry this flag to the grave if I must_

_Because it's the flag that I love_

_And the flag that I trust…_

_-Hero of War, Rise against_

The first thing I noticed when I came to? The warmth…

It wasn't a feverish warmth, nor was it the warmth of the desert. More like the warmth of coming inside after a long day outside. Like the warmth that spreads over your body when you run on a cold day. Like the warmth of a bed, or another human being, close to you and holding you.

Warmth that reminded me of home.

I expected to be on a hospital bed, a _rack, _as I'd learned in basic. Not a bed, but a rack. However, when I started to come to, I was neither in a bed nor in a hospital room. I was, instead, in the middle of a hockey rink. Safe and warm.

I had on my gear, though no face mask, and as suddenly as I realized that I had on my gear, I realized something else.

My legs and arm…They were back!

Not just prosthetics, not just phantom limbs, but they were back. Totally back. No scarring, no pain.

They. Were. Back!

"Why the hell am I on a hockey rink?" I asked suddenly, until I heard the sound of someone else skating behind me. Spinning, I tried to catch whoever else was on the rink so they could tell me what was happening.

Not just one person, but two.

One was a women. She was taller, slender. Blackish hair. In fact, she kind of looked like mom. Kind of. She skated really awkwardly, like you skate when you only do it once or twice a year instead of at a constant. Like how Parker and Michael skate.

And then behind her, there was a younger guy. Maybe in his early twenties, maybe a little older. Blond hair. Really, really short.

Was he wearing Army fatigues?

No, people don't wear Army fatigues to a hockey rink.

I must have been losing it.

He skates more professionally, like he does it on a regular basis. Maybe not as much as me, but he could definitely take me on if we wanted to race.

"Honey, are you alright?" the women asks. I blink and stare for a moment as she comes to a shaky halt next to me. I tilt my head.

"Uh, yeah. I mean, I'm fine. Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm just not used to skating much, that's all,"

The boy comes to a halt next to me, more cleanly, skates scratching against the ice as he grinned at me. I looked down at his skates, which were hockey skates, and grinned at him too. He held out his hand and we shook.

"Hockey player?"

"Before I enlisted, hell yeah," he said, letting go of my hand and then putting his hands behind his back.

"Where…Is everyone else? I mean, I have to be dreaming, right? Or was before just…"

"A nightmare? I'm afraid not, honey," the women states. I look down at my hands and flex both of them, then to test my legs do two laps. It's…Real…I feel good. Theres no way in hell this is just a dream.

"Why I am here?"

"Only you can answer that one, Booth," the boy smiles and indicates that he wants to do laps as well. The women, obviously slightly uncomfortable, waits for us to come back to her.

"Then let me ask this one…Who are you?"

The women speaks up and embraces me, and for a moment I almost pull away. I don't know this women!

Yet, it feels oddly comforting.

"I'm Christine Brennan, dear. You're grandmother," she states, before pulling away. For a moment, my eyes widen and I look between them.

"I'm Corporal Edward Parker. But everyone called me Teddy,"

"Wait…What?!" I started, looking between the two of them. I pointed at 'Christine' and I have to keep my mouth from falling open. "You're dead. You've been dead for…Since my mom was sixteen. That's a long time. You aren't…Christine Brennan. And you!" she states, pointing at him. "How DARE you try and impersonate a heroic soldier! You're dead too! And…And you have no right pretending to be Parkers namesake!"

The two stare at me, the younger male, 'Teddy', he tilts his head.

"You got anger like you're daddy, Christine,"

"You do NOT get to call me Christine!"

"Why not?"

"Because you're impersonating an American Hero!"

He smirks and comes up besides me.

"I never knew people thought I was an American Hero,"

"My dad sure as hell thought so!"

There's silence as the two stare at me and I stare at them.

"_You're in a coma, sweetie,"_

The words come out of my supposed grandmothers mouth, but the voice isn't right. It sounds like Angela's voice…I blink and stare at her, waiting for her to say more. In her voice, she starts to explain.

"You're in shock, honey. I talked to your mom after she was shot, and she had the same reaction. It's okay,"

"Look, I'm not in that bad a state, because then this would be heaven, and as much as my dad wants to believe in heaven and I'm sure he'd be v_ery_ happy that heaven is a hockey rink, I don't think this is heaven. I really don't."

Teddy chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah, Booth would really like this place, wouldn't he?"

"You appeared in the place you were most comfortable. It just so happens that it's a hockey rink," my supposed grandmother explains, looking around. I look up and realize that not only my school colors are on the ceiling, but so is the Navy logo and an EOD crab.

"And if this were heaven, then Bunker would be here," I stated, feeling my stomach swell slightly in pain as I bow my head. Teddy looks at me and sighs.

"He'll come around. Lo-ok, you have plenty of time here, Christine. We just take turns," he states sadly. "Your dad would kill me if I didn't get a chance to skate with his kid. Hell, he'd kill me again,"

"And your mom?" my supposed grandmother speaks up. "She can't see you right now…And I know what it feels like to lose a daughter,"

I look between them and blink.

"What do you mean?"

"It's not your choice to go back, honey. But here's what is your choice-to fight. And we're advocating for your parents, when they can't do it themselves,"

I look between them. My grandmother is hugging me, and sooner or later we're all sitting on the ice, talking. I tell them about my life, about my mother and father. Teddy and I explain military terms to my grandmother…Until finally, they both get up. Teddy looks me in the eyes.

"A couple more laps, sailor? See who's better? Army vs. Navy?" he asks, light eyes.

"Why not?" I state, and start. We go on and on until exhaustion reaches into us, and finally I fall to the ground. Teddy grins and gives me a hand.

"Army, through and through,"

"I was just going easy on you," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Ah-huh. I gotta go, kiddo…Maybe we'll see each other later. Just wait around or sleep or something. The ice won't kill you. And there's benches over there," he motions. "Oh, and tell your dad to stop blaming himself for my death. I told him a long time ago, and he can't seem to get it through his thick head," he grins and pats me on the head before saluting me.

My grandmother awkwardly skates to me, and when she makes it takes my hand in hers and then hugs me tight.

"Keep fighting, Christine. I was always proud that you managed to get my name sake," she smiles at me and kisses me on the head before starting out. "And tell your mother I'm proud…I'm proud of her and I'm proud of her being able to raise such a fine women such as yourself,"

The warmth engulfs me, and I sit down. I'm not sad, oddly. Not sad over this meeting, nor parting. I'm…at peace with everything.

I fall into sleep before anyone comes for me.

* * *

_**Change POV Brennan**_

* * *

"I shouldn't have left her, Booth, I should have stayed by her. I should have told the doctors I thought she was looking worse…I should have noticed how sick she looked, Booth…"

"Just stop it, Bones! You couldn't have done anything! Just stop!" he commands, and buries his head in his hands.

"What if she dies, Booth?"

"She won't, Bones…She _won't,"_

The absolute certainty in his voice makes me calm down for a moment. Everyone else in the room is silent. Parker is sitting as far away as possible, mumbling something under his breath, Hodgins is holding Angela tightly, her head buried in his chest. Michael is at the foot of her bed, holding her hand, tucking that Dingo next to her.

I feel sick and alone.

They have a breathing machine, ventilator, on her. The machines measure her heart rate.

"You're in a coma, sweetie," Angela whispers to her, going close and brushing the hair from her face. I look up at Angela and shake my head.

"She can't hear you, Ange…"

"Yeah, she can," Booth mumbles, closing his eyes. "I could hear you to some degree when you spoke to me while I was out…She can hear us, Bones,"

It's irrational. However, I soon discover that everyone is talking to her.

"Hey, Christine…If you wake up, I'll let you play with my bugs all you want…I know I used to yell at you for that, but really, it doesn't matter anymore. Just…Please,"

"Christine, look, I know I'm a shit for ton brother, I always used to fight with you, but you are my little sister. And I know that you can hear me telling you that. When I go back to Iran, I'll quick some ass for you, tooth for tooth. But you gotta wake up for my, okay? Your mom and dad are worried sick. Hell, I'm worried sick,"

"Christine, it's dad…Look, I know we've had our arguments, but you and me, we're still a team. I need you back, kiddo. Come on. Wake me up and scold me for being such a baby, huh? Make fun of how slow I run and skate…Make fun of the fact that I'm probably going to bald, hey, I don't care! Please, just…Wake up,"

"Hey, Chrissy…Look, I have a ton of Cheetos and, seriously, I want to count some more with you. I think I'm getting dumber by the minute. School me. Come on. And hey, I'll even school you! Christine, I lo-" Michael cut off quickly and looks around the room, which had been silent for his turn to speak. "I love you like a sister. Come on. Please," he insists.

When it's my turn, everyone turns to me. Total silence.

"Look, Christine…I love you, okay? Don't leave me too. Please. Don't leave me too," I whisper, and walk over, kneel next to her bedside. Michael lets go of her hand and leaves room for me. I grab her hand and stroke my hand through her hair. "Look, you're my baby girl…And I know we fight, and I know we have disagreements, but Christine, never once have I ever been disappointed in you. And if you leave, dear god if you leave, I will be. And I don't know what I'll do. You're a part of me…Please…Christine," the last part is whimpered.

Booth is behind me, hands around my waist.

* * *

"_Black leather boots_

_Spit shined so bright_

_They cut off my hair but it looked alright_

_We marched and we sang_

_We all became friends_

_As we learned how to fight."_


	7. I Just Came Back

_I just came back from a place where they hated me_

_And everything I stand for._

_A land where my brothers are dying for others who_

_Don't even care anymore._

_Chances are I never will be the same_

_I really don't know anymore_

_I just came back from a war_

_-Darryl Worley_

* * *

"They lied, you know," Christine heard the sound of a voice say to her. "US Marines aren't the only ones protecting the streets of heaven. It's a lot of EOD's too…I know a couple SEAL's, but we're there,"

The voice was familiar and made her perk up as she looked across where they were now. No longer were they on a hockey rink, but in a pool. She was floating on her back, the sun was beating down on them. And there was Bunker, treading water next to her.

"What the hell would EOD's be doing on the streets of heaven? I can't imagine it's full of bombs, is it?"

"Naw…We're just scary sons of bitches. Who other then crazy mother fuckers would want our job?" he asked, grinning at her. She realized that they were both in their fatigues, Navy issued ship wear. "But you don't believe in heaven anyways, so why should I tell you that?"

"My tags say I'm Catholic, Bunker, so unless-"

"Yeah, but you lost faith the day we died,"

The fact that he voiced those words made her frown, and she stopped treading water for a moment. However, her head didn't go under, nothing went under other then what had already been there. She just…floated there.

"So you're really dead then,"

"They didn't tell ya?"

"No who died…I assumed it was you, because you're sorry ass hadn't visited me yet…Who else?"

"Me, McGill, Notch and B-tech…Tanners, you know, the driver. And Mohammad, our interpreter. He wasn't listed on the dead count, I assume,"

"No…Just four were listed,"

"Wolfman visit you yet?"

"No," Christine replied bitterly. "He's probably happy with his family right now, right?"

"Naw, man. He got his leg blown off too. His leg and arm. And Travers…She got it bad. She thought she was in the states when I checked on her,"

"Whoo, what do you mean checked on her?"

"The fire went off, boom, explosion. I was fine. I tied off a tourniquet for you and Wolman, tried to get everyone else to respond. Mohammad was returning fire to the guys, covering my back. _I covering your ass, brother,_ is what he said. And then he got shot. And I did too," he blinked and rubbed his eyes.

"Mohammad died by the hands of his own people?"

"That's war, Booth…That's god damned war,"

"He saved my life. He helped you save mine and Wolfmans life…"

"Yeah. He did," Bunker replied, looking into her eyes and then getting out of the pool, motioning for her to sit next to him. She hoisted herself out and sat next to him, laying her head on his shoulder.

"You were a damned good battle buddy, Bunker…"

"You too, Booth…You were a damned good battle buddy too," he replied, looking into the pool with a sad look of unrest.

"I have to go back, don't I?"

"We'll, that's you're call, ain't it? I mean, you could always give up. Fall into the water. Let it fill your lungs,"

"EOD's don't give up,"

"Yeah, you're right…But then, we ain't EOD's anymore, are we?"

"Til the day we die,"

He looked at her seriously and looked into the sky.

"It's really nice. None of your ailment, none of them exist. My grandma, she was blind, and she ain't anymore. And I could use a battle buddy up there,"

"I don't believe that any of this is real, Bunker…"

"Can't you feel the sun on your face? You have to believe this is real, Booth…Come on…It'll be me and you,"

"Bunker…I have people…That need me,"

"I had people that needed me too, Booth! But the pain, it goes away when you leave the world. It's not there anymore. You're safe,"

"Bunker…I don't give up,"

"Initial success or total failure, right? What if you wake up and you never get the chance to talk to me, or to McGill, or to Mohammad again? What if it just fades away?"

"You risked your life to save mine, Bunker…I'm not going to throw that away," she said, looking him in the eyes. When defeat ran over them, he sighed and cupped her face in his fingers.

"You were always stubborn, Booth,"

"Wolfman and Travers need me. My mom and dad need me. Michael needs me,"

"Michael must be one hell of a dude, huh? You always talked about him."

"He's my best friend,"

Bunker nodded and raised a brow, smirking.

"Yeah. He sounds like a good guy. I have to go back, Booth. But I love you. You're like a sister to me,"

"Treat me like a brother, not a sister,"

"Well, you sure as hell earned the title of brother. I'll see you, maybe. You going to go to our squad memorial?"

"Maybe…"

The two shared a longing look and Bunker nodded. He touched her again and then pattered her on the knee.

"Bring Cheetos to my grave, will you? Flowers are so stupid," he stated, grinning and walking away, waving. Christine felt her heart wrench at the sudden departure.

This hurt so much more then what had hurt when her grandmother and Parker walked away. She wanted to run to him, to tell him, wait, I'll fallow you! Just wait up!

But she couldn't. When suddenly the pain became bearable again, she stood at the edge of the pool and looked down into the abyss.

_Because the dangerous thing isn't the parts that make up the bomb, it's the human that makes the bomb. We always have to remember that. Humans are the reason this is happening. Not chemistry._

She dove in.

* * *

**So this one is really short, like really short, but I didn't want to add a different part yet. Read and review if you'd like, I don't own Bones, and yeah!**


	8. I Don't Wanna Talk About It

**Another update! Read and review if you like! I don't own Bones, of course! Thanks to everyone!**

* * *

_He said_

_"I don't wanna talk about the war._

_Or the reasons that it started_

_I've been down that road before. _

_And the only place it doesn't go is back to my front door_

_And I ain't walking down it anymore._

_I don't wanna talk about the war."_

* * *

Michael didn't want to leave her. But he needed to find something to cling on to. Whoever was worth her fighting for. He walked out when Angela stopped him by putting her hand on his arm.

"Michael, I know it seems hopeless, but…"

"It isn't hopeless, mom! I'm just…I want to go talk to some people, that's all," he stated, and then took his arm out of her grip. He went to a nurses station and asked the room number of the man he was looking for, and the nurse directed him to the room.

It was further away, but not a horribly long walk. In fact, if Christine woke up (She had to wake up, hell, he didn't think he could live if she didn't wake up), he'd wheel her down here if she wanted.

The room had no one in it, instead a muscle toned man, tan, lay on the bed. His body was covered by a blanket, but he knew from what the reporters had said that the left side of his body would be totally scared. He was missing both limbs from that side.

The man was watching TV rather lazily, and his eyes looked fuzzy and unfocused. Michael knocked on the frame of the room before the man jumped and looked at him, total alertness in his eyes.

"You look like shit, man," Michael stated, starting to walk in. The man stared and then cracked a smile, tilting his head.

"Yeah? Who are you, again? Sorry if I don't recognize you or something…My head…" he motioned. Michael could see the binding on his head, not unlike Christines had been when she'd first come in, and he smiled at him to try and reassure him.

"We school friends or something?" the man asked, and his eyes darted around. Michael shook his head.

"Naw. My friend was in your unit, though. Christine. I figured I'd come and see how you're doing. You mean a lot to her," he stated. The man looked at him and held out his one hand, smiling.

"A friend of Booths is a friend of mine. I'm Wolfman. And who the hell are you, man?"

"Michael. Hodgins," he stated. He wasn't sure if he should avert his eyes or not. He knew that human interactions were different then canine interactions, but he suddenly felt like a lowly subordinate next to a mating pair. Wolfman seemed more like a man to him then Michael felt.

"Ah. Michael. I remember you…Booth always talked about you," he said, nodding. "Where the hell has Booth been, anyways? They said she was okay on the news…Like me, but okay."

Michael hesitated and then sighed.

"She…She isn't responding right now," he stated, eyes downcast. Wolfman took this in and nodded, turning his attention back to the screen.

"Ain't you going to say anything?"

"Well, I'm real sorry. I wish there was something I can do. Booth was real good to me and the rest of our unit. I'll be sorry when she goes," he stated, eyes averted. Michael suddenly felt an urge of anger and he stood up.

"What do you mean, When she goes? How the hell could you guess that?"

Johnson stayed silent and then looked up, brows furrowed.

"Look, I didn't mean anything by it. But I know if I had a chance to get out without offing myself, I sure as hell would." He stated. His eyes were cold for a moment before they softened, and he reached next to him to show him a picture. "That there? That's my son. He's a good kid. Does well for himself and his mom. I couldn't remember him when I got back. And I still can't figure out some stuff. I can't add, Michael. I can't do anything. And I'm sure that if Booth feels half the way I do, and I was given the chance to give up, I would."

Michael stayed silent and then shook his head.

"You don't know if that's how she feels."

"But I do…" he stated and sighed. "Look, you weren't over there. I don't expect a civvie to understand. You expect when you go over there that everyone that came over with you will be dead. You expect it. And then when you're almost home, when you have a chance to go home without any deaths in your unit, and it happens, you want to block it off. I don't want Booth to die. But I'm making it harder for myself if I hope," he stated, and shook his head.

Michael looked at him and was unsure of what to do, so he turned around. Johnson stared for a moment and then spoke up again.

"Christine wakes up, tell her that Wolfman and Travers are waiting for her. We talk every…" he looked confused for a moment and then shook his head. "M-o-n…Day. Monday. And you tell her to bring some chips. We'll have a good time like we used to," he stated, then pounded his own chest.

Michael stared and then walked out. As he was walking down, he saw a little boy rush past him and into Johnsons room. The boy climbed onto the bed and was showing his dad something, it looked like a picture. Johnson was grinning and saying something to his son.

When he saw a young women make her way towards the room, he put his hand on her arm.

"Hey…Tell your husband…Thanks…Tell him thanks for me, will you?" he asked. The women looked at him and then nodded, before walking into the room. Michael stared for a second before turning around.

When Michael got back to Christine's room, Brennan and Booth were holding each other, asleep. His mom and dad seemed ready to as well, but were both hanging onto the fibers. Angela looked up at him and smiled.

"You find who you needed?"

"Yeah…" he stated, sighing. "I did."

It was then that he saw the movement of Christine's eyes, and he walked over to her, excitement over his face.

"Chrissy!" he said, grinning. She met his eyes for a moment, seemed to recognize him before closing her eyes again. Both Booth and Brennan had hopped up when they heard Michael's voice but didn't see their daughters eyes open. Looking disappointed, they both sat down.

"I saw her open her eyes, guys!"

"You're tired, Michael," Brennan replied sadly, then held Booth. Michael shook his head and then looked up. No one believed him.

Please wake up…


	9. Oh I Wanna Go Home

**Thanks for the support, guys! This ones a little longer since I'm unsure when I'll be able to update again! Thanks for everything, read and review, and as always, I don't own Bones!**

* * *

_They say that in the Navy the trainings mighty fine!_

_Last night I had ten buddies, this morning only nine!_

_Oh lord, I wanna go home!_

_But they won't let me oh-no._

* * *

It was so damned hard to open my eyes. Because every time I thought I was there, I felt myself plunge back into darkness. I heard talking, speaking, but that was about all I could get out of it. My throat felt raw. Everything fucking hurt.

Did they take me off pain meds or something?

When suddenly I managed to squirm out of darkness, I saw Mikey kneeling next to me, checking something on his phone. I tried to make some smart ass comment about not having your phone on in a hospital, but it didn't come. For a moment I panicked. What the hell was in my throat? I almost tore at it, but my arm wouldn't move.

The sound, whatever that sound was, alerted Mikey, who got up.

"Chrissy!" he called, grinning at me. I was fighting against the tube, but it didn't even matter, because I didn't have enough energy to do anything. It was unnatural and stiff. I didn't like it.

I didn't notice anyone else was in the room until they all got up. A lot more people then when I'd fallen under. Mom, Dad, Uncle Jack, Angela. Cam and Sweets. Of course, Michael. Why were there so many people here?

"Michael, maybe you should-"

"No, no! She's actually awake. Look!" he called out, and grinned at me.

When all eyes were turned towards me, I tried to lift my hand to wave, but found that I was too exhausted. I blinked and cringed.

"Christine…" Dad breathed a sigh of relief and brushed my forehead. Everyone else just stared, as though expecting something. I couldn't really say anything, and I was too tired to really try anything other than looking.

"I'll get a doctor," Cam said suddenly. I realized that Parker wasn't around and I felt a hint of sadness, but ignored it. I was tired…Damn tired.

Dad was now kneeling besides me on the other side of the bed, and Mom was sitting on the edge. I wanted to say something to break the tension, because I saw wetness on a few people's faces, but I felt totally helpless when I realized I couldn't really be of any help right now.

"Well, Seaman," I heard someone say, and felt horrendous that I couldn't grin at the figure in the door. Parker. He saluted me lazily and then came towards me, checking vitals. "I was worried, you know. Sepsis sucks," he stated. Mom looked up and blinked.

"Where's the doctor?"

"He's coming around. I'm just checking on my little sis," he ruffled my hair, or what was left of it, and then got up. "I swear to God, if you scare me or anyone else in this family like that again I will personally hunt you down in the pits of hell and make your life miserable," he joked, before getting up.

Sweets was about to talk when Michael held his hand up.

"Shhhh. I don't think anyone in this room wants a psych lesson right now," he stated, and Mom looked at him thankfully.

When the doctor finally came in, he started to explain what had happened. Of course, I was totally and utterly confused. Sepsis?

"Do you want to try to get the tube out, Booth?" he asked, and I nodded eagerly. However, even that act seemed like it took too long and too much energy. "Alright. But if you have problems, we have to put it back in. We're unsure how extensive the respiratory failure was," I nodded again.

When we finally got it out, my lungs started to burn. However, I found that I could breathe on my own and I could speak somewhat. My voice was raspy, and suddenly all I wanted was water. Dad gave my ice chips and I happily took them.

"Why…Is everyone here? Weren't ya'll taking turns or something?" I asked, closing my eyes because everything hurt and I didn't want to be knocked out with morphine yet. However, Dad seemed to notice and pushed the button once. Feeling the drugs in my system took an instant impact. It felt wonderful.

"We were worried, that's all," Cam stated. I looked at her for a moment and then looked between everyone else. I lifted my hand up, it took a lot of energy, and felt for my tags. When I couldn't feel them, I felt a moment of panic and looked around. However, Michael held down my hand and picked up something from besides my bed.

"Don't worry. They just didn't want it to get tangled up with the breathing tube. You're fine, Chrissy. This is real," he stated, as though he could read my thoughts. The numb realization that this was no longer a dream, that I couldn't get back, hit me.

I'd made a choice, and I was suddenly regretting it. The fierce realization that I would never see Bunker again, or my grandma or Teddy, it hurt. The raw emotion took a moment to process as I started to sob.

See, I'd cried in front of Mom and Dad before. It hadn't been sobbing, but I'd cried. And Michael had seen me in immense, total pain. Everyone else, though, I'd never cried in front of.

My lungs were suddenly fire, and my head was suddenly a hammer. My heart, I willed it to stop beating, and for a moment I wished it were so.

I didn't register the worry on everyone's face, but I did feel everyone staring at me. When I was finally done, I looked up at Dad as though begging to talk to him for just a moment. Dad and Mom. While I knew Mom would think it was irrational, I knew that I had to tell them…

Everyone else filtered out, though Mikey stayed a moment longer. He bit his lip and tilted his head.

"I'll tell you later," I rasped, though his smile told me that he didn't believe me.

I would tell him later.

Even if he thought it was a lie.

Dad absently took my tags and put them over my neck, brushing my hair out of the way. Mom was looking at me with a worried expression, something I wasn't used to.

"I saw people," I stated suddenly, and almost regretted it. Feeling my soul sink, I shook my head. "I saw people that I know are dead," I whispered.

Mom stared at me and then shook her head.

"Your body went into shock, Christine. The mind does thing to try and help a stressed out body-"

"No, no, I know that…But it seemed real,"

Dad looked between me and Mom, and he sighed.

"Who'd you see, Christine?"

I took in a deep breath and sighed.

"I saw a man…He said his name was Edward Parker…Teddy…We skated together,"

Dad's shocked face was enough to make me sigh and roll slightly.

"And I saw some women…She said her name was Christine Brennan…" I hear these words come out of my mouth, and the instant I say them, I regret them. Mom looked totally in pain. "She was a pretty bad skater. I guess genes don't mean everything, right?" I put in, trying to make Mom laugh. She cracked a smile and then shrugged.

"And then, later, I saw one of my buddies…Bunker…He…He tried to get me to go with him," I muttered the last part softly, trying to make it so they didn't hear it. But they did.

"Go with him where?" Dad questioned, though he knew the answer.

"He said EOD's patrol the streets of Heaven,"

Mom looks between us in disbelief, and Dad, with his normal, goofy self, snorts.

"That's Rangers, Christine."

"No, he said EOD's," I corrected, trying to grin at him.

Mom doesn't say anything.

"Look, Mom, I know you don't belive-"

She held up her hand and shook her head. Biting her lip, she shook her head.

"I don't believe. But you don't either. So why were you crying?" she asked softly. The sudden realization that she had seen the disbelief in my eyes made me feel totally lost. That she had seen my pain. Had she seen it just now, or had she seen it when the priest came in to talk to me? Had she seen it when I prayed absently with Dad before I'd fallen into slumber here? When had she noticed?

How had Dad not noticed?

Dad looked between us, and the hurt in his eyes was very real. We had just shared something, and he hadn't noticed it. I couldn't imagine filling his shoes, but I had to push it back.

I finally shared something completely with Mom. It had always been the other way around before.

"Because…If this is real, then I'll never see them again. I miss them," I admitted. "I miss skating with Teddy, I miss seeing my Grandmother…I miss Bunker, and I miss McGill, and I miss Notch…Hell, I even miss B-Tech. I miss our fucking interpreter, Mohammad. They were my god damned family. And I'll never see them again,"

The words, which flew over me faster than I could think about them, reined true. I felt at loss.

I'd never seen Mom or Dad so worried. It takes a long moment, but Dad walks out.

Mom stays and stares at me. I'm unsure why Dad left, but for a moment I'm happy. I hope that I haven't disappointed him too much.

"If you don't believe in Heaven, and you believe in this…It was one or the other, right?" she asked, and for a moment my eyes glaze over.

"I miss them, Mom. I miss them so much,"

"I know, Christine…But I also know that you chose to come back. Why did you come back if it hurt so bad?"

The question threw me upside down, and I shut my eyes.

"Because I have unfinished business here, Mom,"

She nodded, and closed her eyes.

"She asked about you," I stated, and almost immediately regretted it. Mom looked up and raised her brows. "Grandma…She said that she's proud of you,"

"That's ridiculous," she muttered, though I knew that the hesitation in her voice wasn't simply to spare my feelings.

"Totally," I replied. "But if you look at it another way, if it really was my mind…Then…"

"It was you saying you're proud of me," she whispered, and held my hand. "I'm proud of you too, Christine. I've never not been proud of you,"

I bit my lip and leaned back.

"Dad's mad at me,"

"No…He's just confused."

"He should be mad at me. I deserve it,"

She stayed silent and shook her head.

"No. Booth will come around. He's worried. He's been worried since the day you left home. I have too,"

"He was supportive…"

"Yeah…And think how much it must kill him to know that he sent his daughter to war. That he let her go,"

"It didn't matter. I would have gone anyways."

"Yes, but he gave his support. Now he has to live with it. So do I," she says this rationally, without emotion, and I feel good about this. It isn't an opinion. It's fact. Facts are good.

"'M sleepy, Mom," I whimpered suddenly, and she nods.

"I'll be here when you wake up,"

I hope for a good dream, but I know it's unlikely.

War can only be avoided for so long.

* * *

_They say that in the Navy, the biscuits might fine_

_When one rolled off the table it killed a friend of mine._

_Oh lord I wanna go home_

_But they won't let me oh-no_


	10. This is What Brothers Are For

**Update! I may update later as well! As always, I don't own Bones and reviews are helpful! Thanks to everyone! *kisskiss***

* * *

_Now you come back you hear!_

_And I let him see my tears._

_I said I'll let you have my rookie of DiMaggio._

_I'll do anything you want_

_Clean your room or wash your car_

_I'll do anything just so long as you don't go…._

_And he said_

_'This is what Brothers are for…'_

* * *

Prosthetic.

Meaning, by dictionary, of or relating to prosthesis. An artificial part to replace a missing one.

I had to look that up. I was a fucking A student and I had to look that shit up.

They're saying I'll probably never write right handed again, so I'm working with my left hand. I was good enough with it before, at least it was legible. But now it was large and scribbled, every word looking more pathetic then the next.

Dad says it's getting better. But I know he's lying.

PT. Good for you, good for me. PT. Every day.

Except this no longer meant physical training. It meant physical therapy.

Much worse then physical training. In fact, if I had to chose doing physical training once a day to doing physical therapy once a week. Maybe even once a month. I really didn't care. By the end of each session, in which they had me doing simple, menial tasks, I was sweating, shaking, feeling my neck tense and my muscles ache. Whenever Parker was off, he'd come and watch, being a silent cheer leader.

The one good thing was that I always saw Wolfman during PT. He, too, had sweat dripping off of his face, his big body quivering, his face scrunched in frustration. He'd only joked with me once, making the comment,

"Ay, she came back from the dead! Not a total failure, eh?" and I'd grinned and waved my left arm at him.

"Fuck you, Wolfman," though I was happy to see him. Then we'd be forced back to our tasks, our bodies betrayal working against us ten fold. By the end, I'd be in my wheel chair, and while they told me that I should try wheeling myself back, I could barely lift my left arm by the end. I usually ended up falling asleep on the way back.

Dad and Mom always offered to stay in my room until I got back, but I waved them off.

"Go home. Sleep," go back to work, was my silent request, though I knew neither of them would go. I knew, however, that there were certain times when Dad would say that Mom was at home, sleeping, when in reality she was probably back at the lab. I'd heard Cam talking about it once to Dad while I was sleeping.

Michele, Cam's daughter, had come to see me once, though she had a job far away. As a kid, I'd always looked up to her, so it was cool seeing her high five me and talk to me for a while. She said when she came back, if I was home, we could go do something together like we'd done when I was a kid. Of course, I knew the promise was empty. I'd heard enough empty promises to last a lifetime, and suddenly I was able to detect them quickly.

Angela, bless her, still came, though either Michael or Hodgins were always there. I think I scared her when I went into sepsis. She'd been left alone with me once, and all she'd done was look at her feet for a long time.

"Why are you scared, Ange? I'm fine! I'm going home soon, you know…"

She shrugged, and my grin faltered.

"It isn't your fault, you know. I should have told someone that I felt like sh...Bad…" I recovered, grinning a little more.

"I've seen your dad bleed out in front of me, and I've seen your mom's heart stop, sweetie…I figured, third strike, your out…"

"Ange…" I said, though I knew that she was the one that was likely to show the most emotion. I wanted to tell her that I was great, but she didn't seem to want to hear it. "Booths are strong, you know…And Brennan's are hard headed as hell, stubborn," I tilted my head and wanted to say more, but right then Michael came in and, just as our tradition had gone, he tossed me a bag of Cheetos and sat at the edge of my bed, looking between us.

"I interrupt something?"

His mom quickly shook her head and got up to leave. I attempted to grab her hand, but when I failed, Michael did it for me.

"Mom…" Michael started, and looked back and forth from her to me.

"I love you, Ange," I said quietly, looking in her downcast eyes. "Okay? Thank you,"

She smiled softly at me and kissed me on the forehead, before Michael let go of her hand and she walked out. Michael's eyes traveled back to me with a questioning look, and I just shrugged.

When he looked at his phone, realization sparked in his eyes.

"Hey, you don't have PT today, right?"

I stared at him and blinked, shrugging.

"No…Why? You aren't going to steal me away, are you?"

"No! But I do have a surprise!" he grinned and ran out, before coming back with Parker, who was grinning too.

"What are you two up to?"

Parker helped me into that damned chair, though I fought it most of the way, and when he finally got me down, I stared at both of them. Neither of them answered any questions as they rolled me into what I so affectionately called the "Rec room" or more commonly, the "Let's push a couple dozen people into this room and see if they can communicate well room".

"You guys are NOT making me go to therapy," I growled angrily, and Parker looked insulted.

"What? Us? You must have us mixed up with Sweet's there, little sailor. No, no, you're just gonna see some of your friends?"

"What?" I asked suddenly, before I went in and saw the only two people at a table in the room.

"Wolfman? Travers?" I asked, staring between them. Wolfman looked up at me and grinned, waving rapidly. Travers looked slightly confused before she placed me face, and grinned, not unlike that of a five year old seeing a puppy, and pointed at the table.

I looked up at Parker and Michael, who looked totally innocent.

"What the hell, guys?"

Michael shrugged.

"Look, it's good to talk to some of these guys. They were your family while you were over there. Who else is gonna get it?" Parker asked. I stared at him before he brought me to the table.

On it was a simplistic puzzle, something that would have been done by a preschooler. You know, the puzzles with the thick, foamy backing, the ones that fit together with obvious shapes?

Travers was focusing on it, frustration labeled clearly on her face, and Wolfman, comic and boisterous Wolfman, was only chiming in to help when she looked at him in frustration. Once in a while, she would look at me, and I too would chip in, though I found that my brain felt slightly scrambled with it as well. There were words on the puzzle, and suddenly the spelling of the word and the word itself didn't seem totally right.

It kind of felt like it had used to in our tents. No bullshitting involved in this play, but it almost felt like the card games we'd used to play when none of us could sleep.

"How's you're little boy?" I asked Wolfman suddenly, who looked up calmly and shrugged.

"You know, pretty good. He's in peewee hockey this year. He wants to know if any of the 'Hero's' will come to one of his games," he grinned. I stared at him in slight disbelief and tilted my head, wondering if he was referring one of his favorite superhero's or something. "Us. You, me and Travers. Oh, and any of the other guys if they come home unscratched," he stated.

I furrowed my brow, though Travers looked up and nodded eagerly at the prospect. I wanted to ask Travers about her family, but found myself unable to. This didn't seem to bother her, however. She went back to her puzzle.

"But…Out in public?"

"Yeah. Hey, the robotic stuff is kinda cool, don'tcha think? His whole team is calling me "Captain America" and shit. They all signed this huge ass card. You don't know how many of those kids look up to us," he stated, nodding. I blinked and felt my heart swell a little, though I wasn't sure as to why. The whole prospect seemed ridiculous. None of them, as I guessed most were his sons age, would actually know what we're fighting for. Why would they think we were hero's?

"But…Why?"

"When I was trying to explain to my son what we do, I didn't want to go too much into it. So I told him that we're the guys that clear the way so that the fighters can get through. So that they don't get hurt before they can take down the 'Bad guy'. Defenders of the defenders, you know?" he stated. "And then he told his friends. They think that's pretty bad ass. Wouldn't you as a kid?"

"That's over simplifying a horrendously complicated subject!" I stated, staring at him. He laughed.

"They're kids, Booth. They don't need to know all the details," he stated, the last part a little more darkly.

For a moment, I realized exactly what I'd just said, and I shook my head. Of course they were kids. They didn't need to know anything about the war. That wasn't their job. I took in a deep breath and nodded. What the hell had gotten into me?

"You know when you guys can go home?" I asked suddenly. Wolfman grinned and, in a classic move, beat his chest.

"If I keep coming back every week, I get out in two weeks, baby! I'm going home!" he howled, and for a moment I flashed back to that day that bomb went off. The joy we'd felt before hand. Being a part of a family like that one. And then the fear that came after. My eyes darted around rather suddenly, and Wolfman frowned. Travers had either not heard or chosen to ignore it.

She didn't answer my question, and I was okay with that.

"What 'bout you, Booth?"

"I…I'm not sure. Soon, probably. I don't know. Depends,"

He nodded and shrugged.

"You got it worse then I did. Though I was in the hatch, so it kind of surprised me," he stated, rubbing his head with his one good hand. He then looked at the time and sighed.

"We better get going," he stated, and looked at Travers, who had finally managed to put the last piece into the puzzle and was pointing excitedly. Wolfman grinned.

"Ni-ice NCO! Bravo!" he said, then looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes. I grinned, happy for her excitement, and clapped her on the back.

"Sailors on the top!" I stated, and she looked me in the eyes, for the first time without that childlike twinkle, and nodded.

When Parker came back to take me away, Wolfman had left. Travers was getting up, and I thought she was ready to leave, but when I was about to get out, she put her hand on my shoulder.

"Get…Working…" she said with quite a bit of difficulty. For a moment, I stared into her eyes, wondering if she was simply flashing back to those days, but then I saw the humor in her eyes and I grinned.

"Aye, aye, ma'am," I chuckled and she grinned back at me.

Parker took me back and helped me into bed, before sitting down himself.

"You know, you're supposed to get out soon," he stated, nodding. "I took some leave. Usually, it wouldn't be granted, but I guess…I guess someone was looking out for me, huh?" he asked. I stared at him and blinked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Bones and Dad won't be the only ones looking after you. I'm moving in with you guys,"

"Parker, you don't have to-"

"No, but I want to. It's going to suck, Chrissy. I promise. And Bones and Dad will be home all the time too, they both got time off. But it's gonna be hard. You can get back to normal, but you have to be able…Just trust us…"

I stared at him and nodded slightly, suddenly feeling very afraid. He blinked and tried to grin, but instead grabbed a remote and turned on the TV, turning it to some crime drama that I'm sure Mom would be mocking right now.

"You think I can push myself down the hallway later tonight? Show Mom and Dad what I've been working on in PT?"

He looked over at me and grinned.

"Yeah. Totally. I think we can work that out,"

I felt calm.


	11. Welcome home!

**Update as well! I really can't focus on my Shot in the dark fic right now. I'm not sure why. So I'm really, really sorry guys. I'll continue it, just not sure exactly when the next update will be.**

* * *

_Why should I worry?_

_Why should I care?_

_I may not have a dime but hey!_

_I got street savior faire_

* * *

Dad…

You know, when you're younger and you sometimes think things like, how lame your parents are? When you're younger and all you want to do is get away and never see them again? That moment when you're parents embarrass you so bad you want to run away or scream at them or maybe just cry?

Yeah. Me and dad? We never had that problem.

I mean, when I went to prom junior year, he basically threatened my date. And yeah, that pissed me off a little. When the kid ditched me for Savannah Tolland, though, I kind of wish that he would have shot him between the eyes instead of comforted me in my bedroom. I wished that he would have done something about it. Granted, I don't think he could have kept his job if he was convicted of murder.

Basically, though, my dad and I were pretty cool. He was overprotective, but mainly he just let me do as I pleased. That may have partially been because I really gave him no reason to distrust me, and maybe partially it was because whenever I went out, I was usually with Michael, whom he trusted, but in any case he usually just let me be.

I'm pretty sure he freaked out a lot more then he let on, but to tell you the truth, he never really got on my case. And I guess that was okay.

Why am I telling you this?

"Because my dad won't talk to me about anything besides the hospital, okay?" I snarled at the head shrink, who was nodding thoughtfully and jotting down things in his stupid notebook. I snarled at him and rolled my eyes when he placed his head in his hands.

"It's perfectly normal for a parent to not want to speak about what has happened to their child…They don't want to believe that anything traumatic has happened,"

I rolled my eyes once more and groaned audibly.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. You told me to tell you what I'm currently struggling with. Are you satisfied that I'm not…Not…" my eyes got wide and I gritted my teeth, straining for the word. The annoying, older male nodded at me and signed something on a piece of paper.

"Yes, well, that's to be expected. Still having problems with words and writing?"

"Yes," I replied curtly, shaking my head to try and clear it. The man smiled sympathetically and tilted his head.

"It takes time. Same with your physical adjustments. It doesn't mean you're weak, Christine,"

"Jesus Christ, can I just go home? Or are you going to push that back again too?" I asked, exasperated. I'd been scheduled to go home two weeks ago, but the struggle had been to much. The man smiled and nodded.

"You're going home, Christine. Today,"

I resisted the urge to jump up and down, scream 'Yes!' before running away in triumph. Of course, I obviously couldn't run away, and that annoyed me, but I put on a smug grin before pumping my hand in the air. The shrink got up and offered to shake my hand. While my first reaction was one of annoyance, I have in and shook his hand, before he patted me on the shoulder.

"Thanks for your service, Seaman,"

"You too, shrinkie-dink," I muttered under my breath, though I kind of appreciated it. A little.

I got my discharge orders before Michael even came to pick me up. Mom and Dad were both at home, sleeping, Michael told me, so he'd figured he might as well come. Parks was in the car, waiting for us.

"Ready to go, Chrissy?" Michael asked, bowing slightly and winking at me. I laughed at him and curled my nose, shaking my head.

"Ya know, I thought that maybe this place might grow on me. It never did," I stated.

While I still had to use that damned chair for a while, until my doctor felt comfortable enough with me using those metallic limbs, I had grown used to it enough that I was fine wheeling myself. Michael-boy had my bag, and walked with his hands in his pockets, absently babbling until we made it to the entrance, where Parker was standing against dad's SUV grinning.

"Hey! I thought you'd never get out," he joked, before helping me get in and then starting the car. Michael sat in the back, reading some text book and looking up occasionally at me to grin.

"Whatcha reading, Mikey?" I asked, mainly bored but partially interested. He held it up and then dropped it into his lap, absently tracing the words with his fingers. I could see this through the mirror, and when he finally looked up he grinned.

"Biology textbook. Dad thinks that if I do another year at the university, I can maybe get an internship at the Jeffersonian Zoo, or maybe the vertebrate section in the Smithsonian Zoology department,"

I stared at him and blinked.

"How many years do you even have left before you have enough credits to get your masters?"

"Six months, technically. But I'm minoring in Anthropology, so I gotta finish up that,"

"Jesus, Mikey!"

"Yeah, well. You don't know how many collage level classes I took in high school,"

Not to mention the computer classes, the summer school…He wouldn't mention all that, though.

Why the hell was he minoring in Anthropology? I wouldn't even ask…

"Wait…I thought you already had a job. Up in the north?"

He hesitated and then looked up, grinning sheepily.

"Wasn't a very good job. Bullshit, really. The guy shouldn't have let me intern,"

I wanted to ask more, but figured it wouldn't be fair on our part. I wasn't planning on telling him much about our time apart on my end, so maybe it wasn't fair for me to do the same to him.

When we pulled up to our house, my eyes widened in surprise.

"Woah…" I started, staring at the house. "Did you guys…Did you guys do all that?"

Michael grinned and shrugged.

"You think that's something. Wait till you get inside. My dad and your dad went fucking crazy there,"

The ramp didn't clash horrendously with the house. In fact, it looked like it was supposed to be there. The stairs were still in place, though now they were wooden, and maybe that made me feel a little better.

Parker jumped out and grabbed the chair before helping me, once more, and Michael ran up the stairs before kissing his own arms comically. I grinned at him and gave him the thumbs up.

Parker offered to push me, but as usual I declined. Twitching slightly, I did my own work, though it took twice as long.

"Dad and Bones are both sleeping, so don't be in no hurry, kiddo," Parker stated, waiting on top. When I got there, I realized more. Someone had put in a freaking pull up bar, there were benches on the deck…What the hell?

"Who's planning on doing pull ups?"

Parker pointed at himself and grinned, before pointing at me.

"Whoo-oo no way," I stated, though he shrugged it off, seeming not to want to annoy me more then I had already managed to be annoyed. Instead, we all went inside.

The house wasn't horrendously unrecognizable, which I was happy with. Parker pointed to the guest room and cracked his back.

"What? That where you're living now?"

"Nope. You're on ground level kiddo. I got your room, you got mine. Hallelujah, right?" he asked jokingly. I wanted to yell at him for changing things without asking me, but to tell the truth, I hadn't really expecting to come home any time soon anyways. When he brought me into the bedroom, I realized rather quickly exactly what he'd meant when he'd said they'd gone all out.

It basically looked like my room on base. Blue walls, tons of posters, mini fridge on the ground. The bed was covered with my blankets from base, and the only difference was that it was undoubtedly my bed from upstairs, not the one from base. I stared at all of it and suddenly began to cry.

I don't know why I started to cry. Maybe it was because of the sudden reminder, but it wasn't a bad kind of crying. It was happy tears. The fact that my family had somehow managed to capture something that had meant something to me, a part of myself…I felt sick with glee.

Parker looked rather uncomfortable, as did Michael, and they both kind of just stood there until finally I waved them off. When they left, I just stared.

How beautiful…

The moment was ruined, however, by a loud, resounding, "DAMN IT!" and the sound of my father leaping out of bed and running down stairs.

"Michael! Why didn't you wake me up? Christine is waiting-"

"In her bedroom," Parker finished for him, laughing. When Dad wandered in, looking confused, he stared at me and then laughed, one gruff chuckle, before he embraced me.

"Damn it. You and you're brother," he whispered, ruffing my hair slightly. I looked up at him and smiled through the glisten of tears.

"Thanks, Dad," I said suddenly, and he looked around the room, nodding happily.

"Yeah! Well, Hodgins helped. A little. But we saw the picture of your room and figured, hey, why not make it as much like-Well, I mean, if you don't like it, we can change it, but-"

"It's perfect, Dad. Perfect,"

"Good," he stated, grinning. I heard my mom come downstairs and wander into my room as well, her eyes lit up.

"Do most teenagers sneak home when they're supposed to be waiting for us to pick them up?"

"Well, you know. It's Michael. Hard to resist the beast," I said, before suddenly regretting it. A hardness came into Dad's eyes, and Michael was right outside the door. He came in and raised his hands as if asking for peace, before ruffling my hair.

"Gotta go home, _beast,_" he mocked lightly. I blushed slightly before he laughed and saluted us lazily, walking out.

Sometimes I wonder about that boy…

Sometimes, as Mom said about Dad once, I think he's very nice.


	12. Nightmares keep me up

**I want to offer my thoughts and prayers to those affected by the current tragedies going on in the US and around the world. I'm a small town kid, but I feel these things in my heart just as strongly as any other human being, and while I certainly don't know why, I do know that as a collective community, we have each other. Let's not forget that. I love ya'll and I hope that all of you stay safe.**

**Remember that since this is a war story, some content may be triggering, especially throughout any flashbacks. I don't own Bones.**

_"All the peace, man, it felt so good that it hurt. I wanted to hurt it back.'"_

_"__It __wasn't__a war story. It was a __love__story."_

_"That's a true story that never happened."_

_-Tim O'Brian _

Boom…

The sound most commonly associated with a bomb.

One of the most destructive instruments on god's green earth…

See, some might argue the most destructive instrument is man, but I certainly don't believe that we're instruments. Some may argue guns, and perhaps I have no right to argue against it. But I've seen the good in guns. I was raised with them in my household, knew how to handle, disassemble, and hunt with them from a teenage age. I've seen the good they can do as well as the bad.

Dear god, I've seen the bad.

However, I've never seen the good in a bomb.

Perhaps it's because I'm in a time where I rarely saw high grade explosives used for useful tactics, things like blowing away infrastructure and mountains. I've never seen a bomb used for anything but total and utter destruction. I've seen it take away legs, blow away buildings, destroy powerful vehicles.

However, the first night at home, I do not dream of a bomb. I dream of guns. I dream of _their_ faces…I dream of the recoil from my gun, the panic in my throat, the tears that ran down my face when I realized exactly what I'd done.

_It couldn't be helped, Booth…Just think of how many people you saved._

_It was a god damned kid!_

You never kill kids…

That had been my philosophy as a teenager. A man from around our area killed one of his children, and I remember thinking when I watched the trial, 'You don't kill kids. There are certain people in this world that deserve to die, certain people that you should protect, but kids, you don't kill them. You don't hurt them. And innocents…You don't hurt them either…'

A god damned kid…

He didn't know any better! How could he? And even if he had, he was too easily influenced. Children are too easily influenced. It wasn't fair! None of this, none of this was fair!

The sound of a shot awoke me, eyes wide with a scream escaping my lips. I almost contained it, almost kept it from coming out, but when it did I felt the pressure in my throat, the raw pain throughout my body…

For the silence in the household, I thought that perhaps no one had heard. However, I was quickly proven mistaken when I heard the sound of rushed footsteps into my room.

"Christine?" a voice asked, and the tenseness in my body faded away.

"Dad?" I asked, and closed my eyes, trying to calm my erratic breathing. "How'd you get downstairs so fast?"

"I…Was sleeping on the couch. What's wrong?"

"That's bad for your back, Dad…" I stated, trying to avoid the question. He turned on the light and, rubbing his back absently, sat on the edge of my bed and blinked, before rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked again, brushing my forehead with his fingertips.

When the panic finally left me, I blinked and shook my head, burying it in my shoulder. I couldn't really say nothing. I had screamed. Of course, what was I going to say to Dad? So far as he knew, I'd never killed a man. Let alone a man a woman and a child…I shook my head again and brushed the sweat from my head with my arm, before ignoring him again.

"Dream?" he asked.

Silence.

"I know that you don't want to talk, Christine…But at least give me an answer. You in pain?"

"No. Just a dream," I stated, though it came out as more of a whimper and I flinched when it came out.

The light in the room bothered me, but I didn't want to brush off dad either. As much as his worry annoyed me, it kind of felt good to have him near me. Granted, he wasn't the Army ranger he'd used to be, but he was still one hell of a guy. And a beast FBI agent.

And my dad…

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked, and I shook my head. He sighed. "You sure?"

"Maybe later," I stated, my mouth feeling dry and wrong. The words choked out. He nodded and then I thought he was going to walk away, but instead he just shut the light off and came back to me.

"Dad, go upstairs…"

"Naw…I can't sleep,"

I felt a sudden strike of exhaustion, and bit my lip, before hugging myself.

Before I knew it, I was asleep again.

* * *

No dreams after that. I'm not sure if Dad went back upstairs or not, though when I woke up once more, I heard someone going up or maybe down the stairs.

When the sunlight started to come into my room, I simply waited. I couldn't get up by myself, but I couldn't find it in me to sleep for a long time either. Perhaps it was the sailor in me. I'd gone for about a year getting sleep when I could, usually not getting more then three hours at a time while deployed and eight, if I was lucky, while on base. It wasn't as though I could change it.

At eight, Parker came into my room, in his PJ's, before he offered to help me out. I rolled my eyes, but was glad for the help. I was also happy he didn't bring up the scream. At least, not right away.

"So...How was your night, kiddo?"

Well, that lasted all of ten minutes.

"Ah, you know. It was a night,"

He nodded, and then helped me with the metallic arm (That's what Wolfman and I had started calling them. Either that or Terminator limbs) before walking out. Wheeling myself into the kitchen, I saw Mom and Dad sitting at the bar table, before they both looked over at me with a smile. As I got closer, I noticed both had dark circles around their eyes, and Mom was holding back a yawn. Parker was at the fridge, about to drink from the milk carton before Dad got up and took it away from him.

"You're testing my last nerve, Parker," Dad warned, and while at first I thought he was joking, I realized quickly that that wasn't the case. He was serious.

Parker held up his hands in defense and then reached into the cupboard before grabbing some cereal.

"You want something to eat, Christine?" Parker asked, and I wasn't totally sure if that was to make amends with Dad or a true offer. I grinned and tried to make light of the situation.

"Cookie Crisp? Ah man, you know me so well,"

That at least got Dad to calm down a little. Me joking.

We sat in silence as we ate at the table, though I questioned what either Dad or Mom were doing, because neither had food. After that, Dad went upstairs, likely to sleep, and Parker, Mom and I all sat and watched TV.

At about noon, Mom got up and kissed my forehead, ruffled Parkers hair, and jotted down a note for Dad before leaving.

"Where you going?" I asked. I knew the answer already, even if it hurt a little.

"I just have to do some things. Don't worry. I'll be home before three. Spend some time with Parker," she stated, and though she smiled at me, I could see the forced nature to it.

"Kay..." I stated.

Even if Parker was there, the loneliness in my chest, while not foreign, was not a pleasant one.


	13. Help me out

**Update! Sorry it took so long. Thanks to everyone! I don't own Bones.**

* * *

_And of course, in the end, a true war story is never about war. It's about sunlight. It's about the light at the end of the tunnel. It's about dead friends and girlfriends that never write back._

* * *

Brennan always went to the lab, day in and day out. It seemed that was her way of coping. Christine consistently tried to stay aware, get stronger, get better. Parker consistently helped her with this, until finally he managed to get her to start working prosthetics more and more. They had to go the hospital for that, of course, but he was always there, cheering her on. Once or twice, Michael had even come, grinning and giving her a thumbs up.

It was about a month after she came home that she, Michael and Parker decided to go downtown. Christine was still in the wheel chair most of the time, but she could work that like a pro, so the trio get ready and told Booth, eagerly, about what they were going to do. The protective instinct in Booth kicked in as he looked between them and sucked in a sharp amount of air.

"You sure you want to, Christine?"

She nodded and grinned at him.

"Please, Daddy? I just want to go out for a little bit,"

While Booth was hesitant, he was hoping that the small amount of normalcy might help her ever occurring dreams. She didn't scream, but he and Brennan had been taking turns sleeping on the couch, and he knew just as well as she did that neither of them slept much and simply listened for any disturbances. The sound of panting, of whining, always alerted them that something was wrong.

The first time, Brennan had to restrain herself from going to their daughter. Booth had explained that, unless she asked, they shouldn't go to her. She didn't need to know that they were this close. As far as Christine should be concerned, he reasoned, they were still sleeping upstairs together. They started that way, of course, before one came down.

Strangely, this wasn't affecting their relationship. Which he was glad to see.

He watched the two boys help Christine into the car, though she was managing to do a lot more of the work now a days, and laughed when all three rolled down their windows and gave gleeful cries as they road down the road. When they were down far enough that Booth couldn't see them, he finally went back inside, and went to the couch where he watched TV once more.

* * *

Downtown was one of two things-A, either tourist infested. Or B, as of late, protester infested. Lately, really, it had been filled with both. Downtown and on capital hill, protesters galore. Parker had choice words to share with them, but held his tongue most of the time. He was good with stuff like that.

It wasn't that all of them were rude. A huge majority were very nice. In fact, Parker liked some of them, because they had the troops best interest in mind. Get them out, keep them from getting killed. Plus, a large majority could get drafted, something that he was heavily against. Any of the draftee's he'd been with hadn't been into it, and he risked his neck making sure they didn't risk theirs.

It was the one's like he had encountered when he came home that made him want to freak out. The ones that spat on him, that mocked him, that asked no so softly, if he'd ever killed anyone. Once he'd shown one of his scars to them just to get them off of his back. His chest, a scar from shrapnel. It didn't stop anything.

Sadly, he'd been running into this variety more and more. He'd just forgotten that downtown could be filled with them because he tended to ignore them.

However, Parker was not with them when Christine and Michael saw this group. Parker had gone off to find something for them to eat, some place outside in the sun, when Michael and Christine passed the group of protesters.

The words shouted, well, they won't be shouted here. At least not the mass of them.

Michael was visibly flustered at their remarks when he turned to Christine.

"Why don't you say anything?" he asked, seeing her calm demeanor. He had expected outcry, a fight from the Christine he'd used to know. She looked at him, almost blankly, and took in a sharp breath.

"I took an oath to uphold and protect the constitution of the United States of America. This includes the first amendment, freedom of speech. No matter how much I hate it," she stated, about to wheel away. Michael stared at her and gritted his teeth.

"I didn't take that oath," he stated, before walking over to them, clearly ticked off. One of them took his anger as being for them, and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Hello there, brother! You want to join us?"

Michael glared at him, looking at him through his dark, long hair before shaking his head.

"You better knock it off, and knock it off soon. I mean it. Shut the hell up," he growled.

The man looked taken aback and shook his head.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that my friend fought in this god damned war. I mean that she was not a killer, that she saved lives, and that she doesn't need to hear that god damned poison come out of your mouth. So shut. Up. Please,"

"Aren't you afraid of getting drafted into an unmoral war?" he asked, visibly angry. Michael stared at him long and hard before turning around.

"I'm not afraid of anything. Including you. So back off," he stated. When he came back to Christine, she looked up at him in surprise and blinked, unable to find words.

"Mikey…You didn't have to do that,"

Michael walked along while Christine fallowed, before he looked over his shoulder.

"I wanted to," he whispered, smiling at her with a goofy smile and hoping, just hoping, she'd like the fighter Mikey just as much as she'd liked the lover Mikey. Or maybe a mix of both.


End file.
